


always in two minds

by shotfired



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Clint Barton is William Brandt, Clint Needs a Hug, Don't Judge Me, I Don't Even Know, Multi, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011), Texting, Undercover, What Happened in Budapest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8174419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotfired/pseuds/shotfired
Summary: clint barton's always been good at keeping his two lives apart, letting nothing to do with being an avenger seep into life as a spy with the imf. but then natasha begins bleeding through the barriers, infecting both minds. and clint can't seem to keep her out. not that he ever wanted to.





	

He got the first text at three minutes to midnight on one of the crappiest nights he could remember. Black above, black below and black all around. He was chilled to the bone and soaking wet and cranky as shit at everyone and everything that moved. At first the text was just a noise in the night, an inconvenience, something to be ignored till he was alone, whenever that would be. As William Brandt he had one job that night: to help Ethan Hunt and the IMF team to infiltrate a group of suspected terrorists in the bad side of Tokyo. As Clint Barton he was to make sure that IMF never found out that the suspected terrorists were in fact Hydra sleeper agents. That and stay alive. And undercover. But most importantly alive. He drowned out Benji's insesant chatter the only way he knew how, by imagening a bow and arrow in his hands and the way the air moved when the arrow shot towards its target. Nat would call that stupid. But then she'd say at least he wasn't thinking about sleeping or a dog or coffee or all three. It'd been months since he'd seen his partner. But then he glanced at the phone, briefly seeing her name before scrolling down and it felt like the blood in his veins paused, just for a second. 

_remember budapest?_ Was all it said, staring up at him in bright blue letters as he stood, getting even colder on the street. He frowned, finger poised over the screen. Something must be deadly wrong for Natasha to risk texting Clint, especially when she knew what was at stake. One glance from anyone on his team and William Brandt would become Clint Barton again. But remembering Budapest, while deadly in itself, wasn’t life threatening. He shoved the phone into his pocket, fingers twitching, before turning his attention back to Benji’s chatter.

******************

The second text came a week and a half later. The Hydra cell was safe from the IMF and the team was none the wiser about the sleeper agents. Benji was fiddling with something electrical, Jane had been transferred to another unit and Ethan was doing whatever Ethan did on the rare occasions he actually took any time off. Usually something equally as dangerous as anything he did during missions, generally involving crashing planes and people shooting at him. 

Clint stood in his - Brandt's anyway - office, staring at his phone. _you always remember it differently, don't you._ It wasn't a question, more of a statement. In typical Natasha fashion, one simple sentence could mean twenty different things. Her words could portray as many different sides as her life did. Something was wrong. He’d heard about the Winter Solider incident back in New York from Hill, one of her rare breaking of contact moments. Nat and Cap and some guy named the Falcon had saved the day and more importantly, Natasha was fine. She’d disappeared after that, saying nothing to Hill about where she was going or when she'd been back. Like many times before, she'd gone off the grid. Only this time, she'd gone alone. Only this time, Clint was as much in the dark as everyone else. He didn't like it. SHIELD had kept the IMF away from New York and out of the Winter Soldier mess, but there was no way Clint was going back, not anytime soon. He reread the words, over and over till his eyes turned into slits and his fingers ached from clutching the phone so hard.

“Little dark in here.” He quickly pressed the off button, sending the screen dark and dumped the phone on the desktop. He looked up, turning on his desk lamp and squinting at the sudden light that flooded the small room.

“Helps me think.” He replied as Ethan wandered in, pulling out a chair opposite Clint and slumping into it.

“You alright?” Ethan asked, no judgement in his voice if the answer was yes. Or no. Clint nodded, shuffling the paper weights on his desk around. _Liar_.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” If Nat was here, she'd be able to tell, just by looking at him, that Clint was lying.

“You’re shuffling.” 

“What?” Ethan pointed at Clint’s hands, a small smile on his face.

“You always shuffle when you’re stressed. Noticed that the first week you were here.” Did he really? _Damnit_. Ethan saw more Clint in William than he should. Ethan saw what Nat would have seen. He shifted in his chair, not awkwardly, because even though Ethan seemingly could see things about him that in reality Clint should be hiding, he oddly didn't seem to mind. He only hoped it was Brandt Ethan was seeing, cause there was no way in hell he was giving up two years of being undercover over shuffling paper weights. Stark would never let him hear the end of it. He dragged his hands away, placing them on his lap and clearing his throat. He looked back up at Ethan, what he hoped was a neutral expression on his face.

“Don’t you ever go home?” Clint asked. Ethan still smiled at him, finally leaning back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Clint nodded, swiveling around in his chair and rubbing his hands over his eyes and down his face.

“It’s been a hell of a month.” He said, closing his eyes. He felt comfortable around Ethan, both him and Brandt. He trusted him, as much as he trusted anyone these days and Ethan trusted Brandt. Clint, he didn’t know existed and if he ever did, if he ever found out that William Brandt was all a lie, Clint had a niggling feeling he’d break more than his nose. 

“Yeah.” Was Ethan’s reply and he didn’t need to say anymore. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Clint finally turning back around. Ethan sat in the chair, fast asleep. And Clint smiled slightly, pulling out his phone and reading the message again. _don't you._

**********

Clint was holed up in a box of an apartment in London, waiting for Ethan to come back from his 'surveying'. It was raining yet again and the sky was a depressing shade of grey. Clint tapped against the glass on the window overlooking the street, rubbing his growing beard with the other hand. Benji was furiously typing behind him, muttering strings of words with the occasional swear word thrown in periodically. 

“You almost in?” Clint asked, turning around to face Benji. It had been nearly three weeks since Nat’s last text message. Hill had contacted twice, updating Clint on Hydra activities and Stark’s latest wins at what he called _The Avenger Games_ , at which Rhodey was apparently participating in and losing on Clint’s behalf. 

“I find that sentence both disturbing and insulting. Am I almost in?” Benji scoffed and muttered some more as Clint turned back to the window, resuming his glass tapping. Anything to distract himself from the endless sound of typing and rain- “And if you tap that glass one more time, I will shoot you. Fair warning.” He turned back around, eyebrows raised. Benji pointed his finger at him, shaking it twice before turning back to his screen. “Right. As you were.” Clint shook his head, crossing his arms and glancing down at the street. It was almost five pm and the street had had a steady amount of both foot and car traffic for the past five hours they’d been in the apartment, waiting for a former CIA hitman to arrive at his newest residence across the street.

“When did Ethan say he’d be back?” He asked, watching as a mother pushed her pram along the damp footpath.

“Once he’s done...” Benji’s voice disappeared as Clint saw her. A redheaded woman in a black hoodie, hands stuffed into pockets, watching but not looking at everything around her. He sat forward, forehead practically smashed up against the glass, squinting thru the rain to get a better look. It could be anyone, after all she wasn’t the only one with red hair like tha- but then she looked up, right at Clint and he was sure she smiled. Through the rain and past the noise, she smiled. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Heard every word.” Clint replied, spinning around and grabbing his jacket off the chair next to Benji. “Hold down the fort, I need to check on something.” He left before Benji could say another word, taking the creaking old steps three at a time and almost running out of the building and across the street, weaving through cars and the sudden influx of foot traffic. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, not if he wanted to keep the worlds of William Brandt and Clint Barton apart. But still he ran, dodging a motorbike and stepping up onto the footpath. He glanced to where he’d seen her, pulling his collar up around his neck. It was a futile effort, pulling it up tp disguise himself. What could it hide? What good would it do? Who was he hiding from? Benji and Ethan or William Brandt? He walked towards the alley, stepping around and into the dark passageway. A dumpster and several boxes littered the walkway, but at least it was slightly dryer. Clint was half tempted to check the nearest dumpster for a hidden resident. But that only happened in Devil's Kitchen. That only happened to Clint. He stepped further in, glancing behind him. The alleyway was empty, save for a rat that he had nearly stepped on.

“Took you long enough.” He looked up just as Nat stepped out of the shadows ahead to stand in front of him. Her small smile was intact and for the most part she looked like the Nat he knew. The scratches on her face were new and he could swear there were a few more years in her eyes than before.

“You couldn’t meet me in Paris? Nice and dry there. And I was wearing a tux, where were you then?” She laughed softly and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and never let her go. It’d been too long since he’d seen Natasha. It’d been too long since he’d been able to be called Clint Barton. Hell, right then he’d rather be called Legalos than have to go to a home filled with poker nights and lies as William Brandt.

“Missed you, Clint.” She said softly and for a minute, Clint thought he'd only heard that in his mind. _Missed you_. That didn't sound like something Natasha would say with a straight face. That sounded like the Natasha standing in front of him though. All Clint could see now was the girl he'd met all those years ago. The girl he'd saved. But no, that wasn't right either. He hadn't saved her, not really. But she'd saved him, completely. He smiled back and nodded just a little.

“Missed you too. Like Budapest all over again, huh?” She shrugged, her red hair bouncing over her shoulders. So Natasha, so Clint. So right.

“Only without you shooting at people and missing.” So Natasha, so right.

“Oh, I’ve been shooting people.” Clint said and yes, that felt right. Being Clint, saying things in short, simple sentences in an alleyway in the rain felt right. She smiled again, a sad, tiny smile that somehow didn’t look right on her face, but looked like it fit all the same.

“This place is...wet." She said. _When are you coming home, Clint?_ Is what he heard.

“You should see the apartment I'm in. Small, smells like shit. You'd like it." He replied. _You know there’s no place I’d rather be._ Is what he thought. She just smiled and nodded and there was no doubt in Clint's mind that she was thinking exactly the same things. She took a step forwards, quite, like a cat, then stood on tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek, squeezing his arm softly. So unexpected, so wanted, so Natasha.

“Like the beard.” She said and she was smiling like Natasha again.

“You’re the only one.” She grinned and started walking backwards, away from him, away from Clint, away from real.

“See you around, Will.” She turned around and shoved her hands back into her hoodie pockets.

“Hey Nat.” He took a few steps forward before he knew what he was even doing, as she stopped and turned her head back around. Millions of words flooded his mind. _Why don’t you stay? Stay here where I can make sure you’re okay, make sure you’re safe? Don't ever go. I can't do this alone, don't make me do this by myself!_ But those were Clint’s words and right now, at least for awhile, Brandt was in control. “Be safe.” Was all he said and she smiled just a little and nodded before turning back around.

“You know I will.” Natasha said and then she was gone. Clint stood in the rain, getting wet and getting annoyed. Getting back to William. Getting back to not real. And maybe this was the crappiest night he'd ever known.


End file.
